Lie to Me
by Jack Tamara
Summary: Draco is in love with Astoria. Astoria is in love with Harry. Harry is in love with Ginny. So, how in the world did Draco and Ginny end up getting married?
1. Chapter 1

Ginny Weasley hated Astoria Greengrass, and Astoria Greengrass hated Ginny Weasley.

It was one of those universally known things in the workplace that everybody just learned to eventually accept.

Actually, in retrospect, Ginny had no idea how this happened. When Ginny had started working for the Daily Prophet, it had never been like this. She hadn't known Astoria very well, but there were no mutual feelings of any sort, positive or negative.

Now, it could be considered lucky if a day went by when they didn't exchange hateful barbs at each other. The workplace was constantly in danger of turning into a war zone as each one tried to one-up the other.

Ginny supposed that it had all started the time when they'd both been sent to cover a Ministry gala. Somehow, in the span of that one night, Astoria and Ginny had gone in as strangers and came out as enemies. Now, everything was a competition in the workplace. For example, like the Goldberg article that they were currently writing.

If Astoria had never existed, the Goldberg article would never have been an issue, and Ginny wouldn't have been late for it.

Ginny pumped her legs faster as she ran from the Apparition point to where the Daily Prophet's office was located in Diagon Alley.

To her credit, it wasn't exactly her fault. After all, if that stupid cow hadn't proposed that everyone come in on a Saturday morning to finish up the revision for the article, this would never have happened.

Saturday morning, Ginny thought mournfully. She should've been sleeping in. Instead, she was being pulled in for overtime.

She checked her watch and ran even faster.

*

Ginny breezed through the doorway fifteen minutes late.

She passed by Astoria's office, grateful that it was empty, and headed for her own, pausing to make herself a nice cup of wake-up coffee.

"Tough morning?" Hannah Abbott asked sympathetically. She'd turned out nice enough. Ginny had never talked to her back in Hogwarts, but the loyal Hufflepuff who wrote for the gossip column was always there to talk, which was more than Ginny could say for a certain co-worker.

"Yes," Ginny hustled into her office, throwing down her cloak onto her desk.

"Oh, and Cromwell wants to see you. Just so you know," Hannah told her, sticking her head in.

Ginny groaned. "Do you know what he wants to see me for?"

Hannah shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure, but I heard he's calling in Astoria as well."

Ginny gnawed her lip in worry. "I better go see what he wants then," she sighed, heading out the door, hands running through her messy ponytail.

She racked her head, but couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary. Well, there had been that minor fight over who could cover the war memorial's five year anniversary, but they'd grudgingly compromised on splitting it. In fact, aside from the fact that Astoria had dragged Ginny out of her Saturday lie-in, it'd been a good week for them.

Ginny rapped smartly on Cromwell's oak door and entered, noting with a plummeting heart that Astoria was already seated in her chair, right leg crossed over left and smug smile spread over her face.

"Mr. Cromwell, you wanted to see me?" she asked politely, closing the door and sinking into her chair, taking great care to ignore Astoria.

"I'm glad that you could make it, Miss Weasley," he said, and there was a heavy tinge of disapproval in his voice.

"Sorry I'm late," Ginny coughed in embarrassment. Beside her, she could practically feel Astoria smirking victoriously.

"As I was telling Miss Greengrass earlier," Mr. Cromwell said, "I have recently been informed that the position for editor in the gossip column has opened, and I have managed to narrow my choices down to the two of you. In fact, if your work relationship hadn't been so bad, I might've even hired both of you."

Ginny and Astoria both turned simultaneously to eye each other, giving each other narrowed eyes before each turning back to Cromwell resolutely.

"So, I'm asking both of you to write a series of articles over the course of summer that I will then evaluate and compare," Cromwell explained, leaning over and allowing the morning light to hit the top of his bald head in a way that Ginny thought made him resemble an egg.

"I have the perfect article, Mr. Cromwell," Astoria beamed sycophantically. "My good friend, Draco Malfoy—you have heard of the Malfoys, haven't you?—is having his annual summer function at his manor. And even though he almost never allows any press coverage, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to make an exception for me. After all, our families are such old friends..."

"Oh, yes. I, too, have the perfect article," Ginny drawled in a close mimic to Astoria's tone. If she wanted to throw around famous names, Ginny could do the same. "My good friend, Harry Potter—I'm assuming that you have heard of the Harry Potter, haven't you? I mean, who in the Wizarding world hasn't?—is hosting the St. Mungo's Charity Benefit. I'm sure he'll let me have an exclusive and personal interview. After all, he's practically part of the family..."

She smiled beatifically and looked over to see that Astoria was giving her a look of deepest loathing.

Today was just about to redeem itself.

*

Draco Malfoy glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time since he'd sat down. Astoria was late again, and if there was something he truly hated, it was tardiness. In fact, if he hadn't been so hopelessly besotted with her, he would've left already. Unfortunately for him, ever since he'd seen her newly formed, luscious body two years ago, he'd been trying to get her to go out with him. In his mind, she was the epitome of the perfect wife. Astoria came from a good, pureblood family, had a decent fertility background, and was beautiful enough that he was sure he'd never tire of shagging her.

Unfortunately for him, she'd also been steadfastly rejecting him for two straight years, claiming that she wanted to be "just friends". That should've been a turn off for any guy, but it only made him more desperate to have her, if only to prove that he could.

But now, it was starting to lose appeal. There was only so much rejection a he could take, after all. Today was going to be the last time he appealed to her to progress their relationship. After that, he was going to accept fate and move on. There were still many, shag-worthy girls out there, after all.

He looked at his watch again, a coming-of-age present he'd received from his parents five years ago, and was about to give up and leave when he spotted Astoria's curly brown head pop through the door.

"Sorry I'm late," she panted, sliding into her seat smoothly and plopping her bag onto the back of her chair. "Work was hectic; we're all trying to make the deadline for the upcoming June summer spread, and the Goldberg article was giving us problems."

"It's fine," he waved it aside and motioned for a waitress to come take their order before reclining in his chair so that she could begin her rant about her day at work and the infamous "Her". She'd told him the name once, a year ago, when he'd been distracted by her low neckline, but had always thereafter referenced her hated coworker as "Her" for everything else, as if it would physically burn her throat to say the actual name.

"But it's not fine! Everything's terrible!" she said indignantly in response, and Draco could see that she was winding herself up for another tirade. "You should've heard her today at work! She was bragging so much about knowing Harry Potter that I wanted to hurl! Just because she had a thing with him once, she thinks she's so special. I hate her so much!"

"That's terrible," he said as he fastened his eyes greedily to her heaving chest. Whenever she got excited and overly aggressive, her breasts would move enticingly, and he would always taking advantage of it.

"Draco!" she snapped, irritated, pulling her shirt up. "Were you even listening?"

"I was," he assured her, trying to keep his agitation in check. He liked her better when she was off ranting on her own. It didn't involve as much work on his part. "You hate Harry Potter."

"I don't hate Harry Potter," Astoria corrected. "I hate that cow. Which reminds me: can I cover your annual summer function for the Daily Prophet? I have to write a fantastic article if I want to beat her to the editor position."

"Sure," Draco said, not really paying attention to what she was saying, "I should probably ask you while I still remember: do you want to go to the St. Mungo's charity with me? I'm representing Malfoy Enterprises."

""Sure. Why not?" Astoria shrugged, dumping a bag of sugar into her drink and stirring it. "As friends, right?"

Draco felt a wave of irritation wash over him. "No. I was thinking more of as actual dates."

What was wrong with this girl, anyway?

"Yes, Draco, but we're friends, remember?" Astoria reminded him pointedly, taking small, measured sips.

"Yes, and I'm getting bloody sick of it!" he growled in irritation. "It's been two years, and we haven't even shagged. How long is it going to take for us to get to the actual relationship part?"

Astoria looked surprised. "Well, I—I just always thought we'd always remain friends. I didn't know that you still wanted something more. I figured you got over yourself a long time ago."

Draco knitted his eyebrows together at her words, unwelcome realization starting to settle itself deep in the pits of his stomach where it churned uncomfortably. She couldn't really be that clueless, could she?

"Wait. You mean that," Draco said slowly in a deadly, quiet sort of voice as his mind twisted itself trying to input this new information, "all this time I've been waiting, I was getting nowhere?"

"Look, Draco, I'm sorry. I know you're upset—"

"Of course I'm upset," he snapped. "I've just wasted two years of my life for nothing. I sat in this stupid coffee shop, which I loathe, by the way, all because you said it was 'quaint' and 'cute'. Not only that, I showed up every time you go out to get drunk, and I didn't even get any thank-you shags for doing it! And I even got you your job at the Daily Prophet, only to have to endure your continuous freak obsession with your female coworker."

"Only because I hate her!" Astoria snapped, cheeks turning a splotchy red color.

"I think you should just shut up because at this point, I'd rather marry her than believe another word you say. You led me on for two years without telling me that you had no intention of us ever dating," he said hotly. This was supposed to be the last time he ever asked her, but his pride had chosen a bad time to make an appearance. He couldn't let go of her now. That was just too embarrassing.

Astoria's face colored at his words. "You don't mean that."

"I mean every single word of it," Draco said nastily. "At least she'd be less of a prude. No wonder no other male ever looks your way. It takes too much time to wine and dine you."

"Get off your high horse and stop talking about things you know nothing about. If you think she would ever even look at you twice, you're wrong," Astoria sneered, the Slytherin in her coming back out. "But feel free to spend two more years of your life chasing another girl who'd never want you. It's what you do best, after all."

White-hot rage surged through him as he watched her sit across the table and make fun of him.

His grey eyes darkened in incontrollable, raw anger, and whites of his eyes drew tighter together.

"Give me a month, and I'll have fucking married her," he snarled, the faintest of pink coming over his cheeks. "Not everybody is as hopeless as you."

"I don't think so," Astoria said confidently, "Your money is useless with her class of people. It'll never work."

"Just watch me," Draco threatened, and Astoria laughed in contempt.

He stood up swiftly, throwing money down onto the coffee table in front of her, his face a marble white that seemed to project his coldness.

Turning abruptly on his heel, Draco stormed out of the coffee shop in a towering rage at the curly-haired bint.

She could laugh now, but he would show her that it was wrong and unheard of to turn him down like that. Tomorrow, he'd go to the Daily Prophet's office and find out everything he could on who this hated coworker was. Then, he'd draft up a contract and pay her an exorbitant amount of money to marry him for a few months. Of course, his mother might pitch a fit about him not telling her sooner, but she would get over it.

And hopefully, once Astoria realized that she was being ridiculous, he could get his divorce, and he could finally end his two-year-long pursuit. He still wanted her, if only so that he could eventually get over his obsession and leave her in the most devastatingly humiliating way possible.

He headed back towards his company building, making a note to Floo Blaise and Theo for a guy's night out with women, Firewhiskey, and more women. Tonight, he'd first try to forget about how much it'd hurt to get rejected for the first time in his twenty-two years of life.

Then tomorrow, he promised himself, he'd go down to the office and figure out just who he was marrying. He was sick of waiting.

It was time to end this game once and for all.

**A/N: This is my first time writing a real, long chaptered fic and I would love your input. I do personally respond to every review, and it would be nice to make some new friends, too. So, please read and review! Hearing from all of you would really make my day, and it only takes a minute on your part. Thanks so much in advance!**

**-JT  
**


	2. Chapter 2

It should've been raining today, but it wasn't.

Instead, Draco could practically feel the noon sunshine through his windows. The sky was a rather attractive hue of blue, but his rotten mood wouldn't let him appreciate it.

Draco threw the quill down on his desk and stood up, pacing the room like a man possessed. He could still feel the raw anger from two days ago, burning as brightly as when it'd first been ignited. By normal standards, it should've subsided by now, but he had always been one to carry around a grudge. Forgiveness was not something he doled out readily.

Draco stood by one of the windows, arms folded and thinking. He'd made a trip down to the Daily Prophet's office yesterday, only to find that the regular staff had Sundays off. Then, he'd gone in again this morning, but Astoria and her fellow staff members weren't due for arrival until noon. To be honest, he was getting quite angry at this elusive girl too, who was taking up so much of his time and efforts.

Well, he'd try once more during his lunch break, and then he was marching straight into Astoria's office and demanding the name, regardless of the fact that he wasn't supposed to be talking to her.

Draco turned back to his desk and sat down again, signing the document before him with a flourish, not even bothering to pay attention to its contents.

Astoria had better work her arse off repaying him for his troubles when this was all over.

*

Sometimes, Ginny Weasley loved her job.

Today was definitely not one of them.

She'd only been working for half an hour, and she could already feel the beginnings of a headache settling in her temple.

Ginny put her index and middle fingers together, rubbing lightly at the side of her head.

It didn't work.

"Food," she muttered, nodding to herself. "I need food." That was, Ginny reminisced nostalgically, what her mother had always considered the cure for all ailments. Besides, it was time for lunch, anyway. And if her head would quiet itself down a bit, maybe she could even visit Harry at the Ministry of Magic and ask if he wanted to grab a bite at the local coffee shop.

Ginny stood up, smoothing her pencil skirt down, and grabbed her bag.

"I'm off to lunch," she called to her friend, waving to Hannah as she headed out the door. She would've asked if the blonde had wanted to come along, but Hannah had always been a chatty girl, something Ginny didn't think her head would appreciate.

"Oh, Ginny, can you pick up the robes they have on hold for me down at Madame Malkins?" Hannah called, and Ginny nodded.

She turned back again and found herself running face first into the next incoming person.

Ginny glared at the black-robed figure and wrinkled her nose in distaste as she identified the trademark white-blond hair.

Five years may have changed him physically, but she could see that the pasty git was still the same sneering boy that he'd been back at Hogwarts. If she never saw him again, it'd be all too soon.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" he said, looking down at her from his pointed nose contemptuously.

"I work here," she said through gritted teeth. "Surprised?"

She could just tell from his facial expression that he was about to make some rude comment, and she was not disappointed.

"Not really," he said in a bored tone, "I suppose that after Father and Mother Weasel died, you had to find some way to support yourself, even if it was as the custodian for the Daily Prophet."

"I happen to write stories for the Daily Prophet," Ginny sniffed delicately, refusing to rise to his bait. "You should know. I wrote the article about how no woman should marry you, despite the fact that you have billions of galleons stored away. I do believe that was one of my more successful ones, too."

"And it'll be your last one about me if you do that again," Draco said indifferently, although his gray eyes held an indefinable anger. "I may not be able to marry based on money, but I can certainly still have you fired for printing libel. My billions of galleons are good for that, at least."

"And nothing else," Ginny said, waving aside his threats. "Don't worry. They say that acknowledging the truth is the first step towards accepting it. Let me know how that works out for you."

She side-stepped him, trying to get to the door, when she happened to bump into somebody. Again.

"It's you," Astoria glared, dusting her shirt with a look of disgust.

"I'm glad that you've learned basic identification, Astoria. It's nice to see that there's something there under that frizzy mass," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes while silently apologizing to Hermione about the frizzy hair comment.

"A pain in my arse, as always," Astoria said scathingly.

"And what an uptight arse it is," Ginny smiled mockingly, pausing on her way out. The food would be there later, but a chance to verbally spar with Astoria only came around once a day. "Maybe you should ask Malfoy for a shag. He's looking for a gold-digger wife, and you seem to fit the bill."

"I hate you," Astoria spat, seeming to have been personally offended by Ginny's comment.

"And I feel the same way about you," Ginny snickered in reply.

With that, Ginny pushed past Astoria and headed for the outside.

Those coffee cakes were calling her name.

*

"A Weasley?" Draco asked in a low, outraged voice, once that infamous shade of red hair had long disappeared out the door. "Your infamous, hated coworker is a lowly Weasley?"

"Are you talking to me?" Astoria snapped. "Because I was under the impression that you were supposed to be giving me a break from your obsession."

"Anger doesn't suit you, Astoria," he drawled snidely. "You're not still upset at losing that round back there to a blood-traitor, are you?"

"Stuff it," she warned scathingly. "I would think that if anyone was upset, it'd be you. I told you you'd never be able to bribe my coworker into your revenge scheme, and I was right. She could live for years on only one galleon. For once, your money is useless."

Draco's eyes flashed. He'd done more than his fair share of hard, grueling work. Besides, Astoria should've been paying homage to his galleons. Without them, she would've never gotten this job in the first place.

"I'll still win," he said silkily, albeit vindictively. "I always win."

"I wouldn't count on it this time," Astoria scoffed in his face before shutting her office door violently.

Draco glowered at the closed door and at everybody before turning to a buxom blonde.

"You," he snapped at the girl, causing her to give a tiny jump in surprise. "Where's Weasley's office?"

The girl jabbed a finger to her near right, and Draco slammed the door, shutting himself in and preparing to wait until the office's occupant returned from lunch.

He scowled, lowering himself onto the bint's couch.

Weasley had better be a bloody fast eater.

*

Her mum was absolutely right.

The chocolate soufflés had been heavenly, and Ginny could still taste them in the back of her mouth. Already, they were working wonders. She could barely feel her headache anymore. Food was truly the cure.

Ginny floated past the door, Hannah's robes dangling on her arm.

"Here you go," she winked happily, depositing both the robes and a piece of chocolate soufflé on Hannah's desk. Chocolate had always made Ginny in a extra generous mood.

"Ginny," Hannah whispered conspiratorially, completely ignoring the garment on her desk, "there's a man waiting for you inside your office."

Ginny frowned. "I hope I'm not in trouble," Ginny whispered back, feeling the good feelings from the chocolate disapparate.

"You should just see what he wants. He's quite mean," Hannah told her, picking up the chocolate soufflé and breaking off a piece to put in her mouth. "Thanks for this, by the way."

Ginny watched Hannah eat it. She would've bought another piece to calm her nerves if she'd known beforehand that there would be an angry man waiting for her in her office.

Ginny pushed open her door cautiously, taking a quick peek inside for any signs of her boss. Instead, all she saw was Draco Malfoy reclining on her couch, eyes staring murderously at the opposite wall.

"Malfoy," she said in a low voice, seething. "What are you still doing here?"

"About time, Weasley," Malfoy said coldly, looking up as she came in. "If your family always takes this long to eat, it's no wonder that your mother was as big as that shack you call a home."

Without even realizing what she was doing, Ginny whipped out her wand and sent a stinging hex at Malfoy, who yelped in pain at the cutting sensation whipping across his left cheek.

"Don't you dare talk about my mum that way," Ginny hissed, wand still pointed threateningly.

"Fuck you, Weasley," Draco hissed back, hand cupping his wound. He pulled out his wand from within his robes and pointed it at her, too. "Damn it, if you would just listen for a second without losing your head, I have a proposition for you."

"Anything you have to say, I don't want to know," Ginny said, advancing menacingly. "Now, get out."

"I'm willing to offer you five million galleons in exchange for marrying me, so you might want to reconsider," Draco said, gripping his wand tighter in between his thumb and pointer finger. "Your family could probably use the money."

Ginny felt a surge of anger. He thought that he could try to buy her consent with five million galleons. In fact, he was probably expecting her to fall to her knees in gratitude at his generosity.

"I'd rather die than marry you. Not, get out," she said in a deadly voice, "or else I'll hex you right into tomorrow."

He stood up, black robes billowing around him menacingly.

"Last chance, Weasley. I would suggest that you take my generous offer. You don't know what I'm capable of."

"I suggest you take _my_ generous offer before I do something we'll both regret," Ginny cautioned, sending red sparks flying from the tip of her wand in warning.

He stared at her furiously for a second before tucking his wand away.

"As you wish," he said, dangerously calm.

And then, he was sweeping out of her office in a ball of palpable fury, white-blond hair standing out in the sea of people.

Ginny stared at his retreating back, incensed, before locking her office door with a wave of her wand, shaking her head.

Five years later, and he still thought he owned the world.

*

Draco strode into his own office, shattering objects in his wake.

That was the second time that he'd been rejected in three days. Astoria had been one thing, but a Weasley was just intolerable. The Weasleys were dirt poor, blood-traitors, not fit to wipe the filth off his dragon-hide boots. Yet here he was, offering to marry her for a grand sum of money.

And she had said no.

Well, he was going to marry the ungrateful twat if it was the last thing he did. All he had to do was target her weak spot. Money may not have worked, but everyone knew that the Weasleys were all family-loving creatures. He could just kidnap a red head brother of hers—her favorite one, preferably—and threaten to kill him if she didn't marry him. He bet she would say yes right away.

But, no. The point was to make Astoria fall in love with him, not visit him in Azkaban. Ever since the war, everybody had loved those damn Weasleys for being the surrogate family to their boy hero.

Draco paced around, racking his mind.

There just had to be something else, something that she'd slipped up on in their conversation.

Now, all he had to do was find it.

*

Kipling Lawson glanced up as Draco Malfoy swept into his office imperiously, absorbing all the excess energy in the room.

"Mr. Malfoy," Kipling acknowledged, gesturing for the man to sit down. "How may I help you today? Selling one of your villas in France?"

"I'm not selling, I'm buying. And I want to know all about the Burrow," Malfoy said abruptly, launching in without preamble. "How much is it?"

"Excuse me?" Kipling put his quill down, looking at the young Malfoy quizzically. Everybody knew that Malfoys and Weasleys tried to have as little association with each other as possible.

"That blasted Weasley residence," Draco Malfoy enunciated impatiently. "The elder Weasleys have been dead for a year and a half, so nobody lives there anymore. I want to know how much you'll sell it to me for."

Kipling blinked owlishly before regaining his senses.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's for sale. The deed currently belongs to a Ms. Ginevra Weasley, and any pricing would have to come from her," Kipling explained.

Draco Malfoy pulled out a bag of galleons and tossed it onto the desk. "Still not for sale?"

Kipling stared at the bag wordlessly for a second before speaking.

"I will speak to Ms. Weasley about it, and try to persuade her," he said, pulling the bag of money towards him for inspection.

"No, I don't want you to speak to Ms. Weasley about it. She'll obviously say no," Draco scoffed at Kipling's stupidity, stopping the bag's movements, "I want you to invoke upon Wizarding Law 1483 that states that any residence that has had over a year long of inactivity is subject to be auctioned off to the highest bidder."

"Only if the residence hasn't belonged in the family for less than four generations," Kipling reminded him.

"And do you think that the Burrow would still be standing if it'd been built four generations ago?" Draco sneered, crossing his arms. "I've already checked it—it hasn't been around long enough."

Kipling looked at the man before him, with his slate colored eyes burning with determination and his jaw set.

"Very well, then, I'll see what I can do," he sighed, picking up his quill again.

"I want to hear the results tomorrow," Draco prompted in warning, turning towards the door.

If everything went according to plan, by Wednesday, all of Wizarding Britain would know about his new acquisition, including a certain female red head.

They always did say that hell knoweth no fury like a Malfoy scorned.

And how right they were.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed, especially **cherryVanillaCoke16, noona1, Nutmeg44. theundignified, ChinkyAznKid, veronica21, darinmeg, David Fishwick, raynebow kisses, kayellis, Black Lagoon, TimeBringsTruth, yasy, and the Puppeteer**. You guys are awesome, and I promise to reply to all your lovely reviews as soon as I can.

Thanks again for reading and please read and review!


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny Weasley was furious.

She really tried to keep it under control, but it was just too hard. Ginny could already feel her cheeks burning at her attempts to keep her anger in check.

"Relax, Ginny," Hermione told her sympathetically, rubbing Ginny's wrists soothingly.

Ginny shook her head viciously. "I can't even believe we're here. Who even sanctioned this in the first place? The Burrow is Weasley land. Always has been and always will be."

"I know," Hermione said, lowering her voice. "I researched Wizarding Law 1483, and it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. It's completely oppressive and archaic. I can't believe they're using this as an excuse to auction off the Burrow."

Ginny turned and looked into Hermione's eyes.

"I have to win this auction. I just have to," she said desperately. "It's the only thing I have left to remind me of Mum and Dad and all my childhood memories. I don't know what I'd do if I lost that."

"Don't worry," Hermione said, slinging an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "All your brothers and Harry and I are here. We won't let you lose this."

Ginny nodded. She'd been embarrassed when Harry had shown up, given her upbringing to never accept charity, but he'd passionately defended himself, saying that the Burrow had been like home to him for much of his teenage years growing up. And Ginny, who had felt pushed to the last resort, hadn't done much besides half-hearted protests to sway him.

"All right there, Ginny?" Harry asked, coming around and sitting on Ginny's other side as the auctioneer stood and asked the audience to quiet and sit down.

Ginny bobbed her head tightly, hands fisting into the hem of her cloak.

She turned her head to the side and saw all her brothers sitting together, the sea of red a comforting, collective unit.

They wouldn't let the Burrow go into someone else's hands, and she wouldn't either.

Up on the platform, the first price was thrown out, and the auction began.

*

It was a dismal day to be sitting in the sun, Draco reflected as he peered at the crowd from the side. Luckily, he'd already thought ahead and was now sitting complacently in the shade. Out in the open, he could see the back of his trusty assistant, who'd been instructed to come back to Draco with the deed to the Burrow, no matter what the cost.

Draco eyed the crowd coolly, easily seeking out the sea of red up at front. It seemed as if all the Weasels had decided to make a collective appearance in farewell to their beloved Weasel hole.

Oh, and now they were getting angry. He could see one of the lumps stand up and starting shouting at the auctioneer. His female Weasley got up too and restrained her brother while calling out another price.

Draco watched as his assistant raised the price even higher. All the Weasleys immediately scrambled together to pool their money together to see if they could make it. He sighed in boredom. It was useless for them. All of them were married and had loads of filthy, freckled brats, with the exception of the youngest one. And if things would start speeding up right about now, he was going to change that.

Draco crossed his arms in satisfaction as he heard the littlest Weasley desperately raising the price far above what he knew she had. It would've been funny, except he was losing hundreds of galleons by the minute to the determined bint who just wouldn't give up.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, his assistant finally reached an unbeatable price. Draco watched as the female Weasley slumped down in her chair in defeat—a sure sign of his victory--, and stepped out of the shadows to survey his newest purchase critically.

It was a dirty, little thing that seemed to defy gravity with its very verticality. He looked at the shuttered windows in distaste before noticing the front yard.

It was a chicken coup.

And he'd just paid eight thousand and thirty-one galleons for it.

*

Ginny Weasley thought she hated Draco Malfoy.

She was wrong.

She absolutely abhorred his filthy guts. In fact, if given the option, she would've liked nothing better than to carve out his aristocratic, pure-blood entrails and feed it to the vultures.

But, no, she would keep her temper in check and figure out a way to get out of this mess. The Burrow in Draco Malfoy's hands was not an option to even be considered. Still, she would've loved dearly to have Floo-called every single one of her brothers and exacted just revenge.

Unfortunately, though, they weren't supposed to know about it yet. In fact, nobody was. Nobody, that was, except for her and the rest of the Daily Prophet, to whom Draco had given rights to press coverage.

Fate, Ginny reflected bitterly, had a twisted sense of humor. It could've left her alone to brood; instead, it had saddled her with the job of writing an article about her own home being sold to someone else.

Not only that, but she was also supposed to include an interview with Draco Malfoy, who was now the owner of her childhood home. She only hoped for both their sakes that she had the will in her not to reach over and strangle him half-way through.

"Ginny?" Hannah stuck her head into Ginny's office, where she was sitting listlessly in her chair. "Malfoy says that he is available at seven in the evening."

"I get off at six. Tell him to pick a different time," Ginny said, glaring at the couch in front of her where the Slytherin had just sat in not too long ago.

"He says that you can either do it at seven, or you can choose to not do it at all," Hannah said, biting her lip apologetically.

Ginny pursed her lips to keep herself from taking the heat out on poor Hannah.

Maybe she would strangle the git after all.

*

The restaurant was almost empty, even though it was still technically dinner hour, which was a plus considering the reason for their meeting.

Draco was surprised that when he arrived at the restaurant, Ginny Weasley was already seated at their table.

"Weasley," he acknowledged cordially, giving a tiny nod. Now that he held the ace in his hand, he could afford to be as polite as he wanted.

"Malfoy," she said coldly with none of his pleasantries.

"You don't seem to be in a very good mood," he smirked knowingly, thinking of his newest purchase. "Wonder why."

Weasley's nostrils flared dangerously. "Don't you dare antagonize me, Malfoy, or I might just do something drastic."

"Unfortunately, since you still need to interview me, I can't say I'm intimidated at all." Draco sighed, "And if you would hurry up already, we could get this over as painlessly as possible. I do have more important things to do, you know."

Weasley bit down hard on her bottom lip painfully like she wanted to say something before closing her mouth and whipping out her quill and a piece of parchment.

"Okay, let's start with why someone like you would stoop so low to anger a Weasley, then. Is it just the feud talking, or is there something else? Perhaps you've been neglected all your life, and this is just another cry for attention." Ginny waved her wand, and her quill posed itself to write down his answer verbatim.

Draco took a sip of his water, calmly taking his sweet time, knowing that it would only infuriate her even more.

"What makes you think I did it to anger you, anyway? Maybe I'm genuinely interested in owning such a…distinctive building," Draco shrugged cryptically as he scanned the menu, refusing to meet her eye.

Ginny stopped the quill with her wand so that her next words wouldn't go down on parchment.

"Okay, what are your real intentions here, Malfoy?" Ginny glared. "Because you and I both know that there's some sort of grander scheme here."

"Well, since you want to know so badly," Draco shrugged. "I still want to marry you."

Ginny choked on her water. To his surprise and annoyance, Weasley began to snicker, a tiny rumbling sound in the back of her throat.

"Vindictive, vengeful thing, aren't you, Malfoy? Still hurting from the rejection?" Weasley said all-knowingly, giving him a smirking smile.

"If I were you, I wouldn't be laughing because that still doesn't change the fact that the deed to your Weasel hole is in my hands," Draco reminded her, failing to rise to her bait, and Weasley sobered up at once.

"Not for long," she said confidently in a way that made Draco suspicious.

"Maybe so, but I think I'll enjoy making a few renovations to it while I can. By the time you get it back, it might not even look the same," he informed her so that she wouldn't get any ideas. Weasley had better be taking him seriously.

"Get to the point, Malfoy," Ginny growled, picking up a knife and slitting a piece of the bloody steak dangerously.

Draco remained unfazed, even though his eye fixed upon the red piece of meat briefly.

"It's easy. If you marry me for six months, I'll give you your home back," Draco explained, folding his hands calmly on top of the table.

"No," Ginny automatically said, slicing off another piece of steak while keeping her eyes steadfastly on him. "Pick something else."

Draco's eyes glittered.

"I think I should clarify," Draco said, all signs of mock mannerisms gone. "I have half a piece of mind right now to burn that shack down and build a gentlemen's club there in its place. That's the something else."

Weasley's eyes blinked fiercely as she looked into his, and she actually trembled in anger. No doubt, she was imagining whores and randy wizards doing all things unimaginable at the site of her beloved Burrow.

Draco drummed his fingers on the table audibly as the silence grew, and she shot him a dirty look. His only response was to drum even louder in impatience.

"I want an explicit contract," she finally declared stoically in an effort to preserve her pride, and he would've reminded her that she was in no position to make such bold demands if he hadn't been thinking something along the same lines himself.

"Gladly," he informed her, "Goodness knows I don't want to remain married to a Weasley for the rest of my life."

"Then why are you doing this?" Weasley asked, looking as if she were torn between satisfying her curiosity and not talking to him.

"According to my parents, I don't get my inheritance until I get married," Draco lied. He had already been receiving his inheritance in increments since the day he turned twenty-one, but he didn't want Weasley here walking around with the knowledge of his humiliating rejection. The last thing he needed was for her to tell all of her Weasel brothers at their family gathering and share a good laugh about it with Potter and Granger over dinner.

"You don't honestly expect me to believe that out of all the eligible witches in England, you picked your family enemy to marry," Weasley said flatly, a look of mistrust on her face.

"You'll be my revenge," he invented. "Goodness knows they'll probably both have a conniption when they find out I'm marrying the smallest Weasel brat."

Across the table, Weasley seethed.

Draco just smirked again.

*

They arranged to meet each other the following afternoon in his office.

As it went, she got her interview anyway, even though all she'd had to do was charm her quill to copy down his every word as he sat across from her at the restaurant and dictated all the necessary things.

In the end, they agreed that he was buying the Burrow as a surprise wedding gift for his fiancé, who would be appropriately shocked and grateful when relating that to her brothers. After all, he didn't, as Draco put it, need hordes of Weasleys after him for both forcefully possessing their ancestral home and marrying their beloved sister against her will.

"First off," Malfoy began, giving her a stern look over the top of his nose, "you will tell nobody outside of the occupants in this room that you are anything less than my besotted fiancé. That means, I don't want you gossiping with Granger and that air-head you work with that you are marrying me under a contract."

Ginny snorted. "Don't worry, Malfoy, it's not like I want to advertise the fact that I'm being forced to marry you."

"You better not," he warned, "because when all the paparazzi take pictures of us, you had better look like you want to be attached to my arm and not as if you would rather be anywhere else than five feet near me."

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "I get the picture."

"Good," he replied, marking something on their contract, "or else you might just find yourself in too much pain to talk."

Ginny rolled her eyes. She may have been a blood-traitor in his eyes, but she knew fully well the effects of their binding contract and needed no reminders from him.

"And in return," Malfoy continued without looking up, and Ginny snapped her attention back to the top of his platinum-blond head. "I will relinquish your precious Burrow over to you at the end of six months."

"I want payment as well," Ginny notified him on a whim, the idea suddenly coming to her.

He paused in his writing and looked up.

"Excuse me?" he said coolly, "I must not have heard you correctly."

"No, you heard me just fine," Ginny assured him. "I want payment for having to suffer your egotistical comments about my family. Besides, it's no different than you marrying someone who's after your money."

Well, _she_ didn't need the money, but if she was going to marry him, Ginny was at least going to make this as painful for him as it was for her. It was only fair.

"You do realize that you're in no position to make demands about anything I offer you?" He told her, turning his quill around his finger nimbly.

"I could always do a less than phenomenal job. Occasional slip-ups, if you will that would just fly under the radar," Ginny informed him.

He looked at her long and hard before returning to his scribbling. "You'll get a thousand galleons for your work, and be grateful for that."

Ginny sat back in her chair, satisfied. She planned on making a generous donation to the War Veterans Association very soon, where she would sign her married name in obnoxiously big letters so that it would kill Draco to know his money was going to a cause he didn't even support.

He may have been the one calling all the shots now, but once they were married and he had no control over her actions, she was going to make sure that he suffered as much as possible for this.

*

Dinner with the Weasleys was a disastrous and terrible idea.

Draco glanced around at the sea of angry red heads with Potter and the bushy-haired Weasley nee Granger in tow.

"We are very much in love," the female Weasley was explaining to the hostile crowd. "It was a bit of a secret affair. I knew you guys wouldn't approve."

"Damn right you were," the Weasley he hated most growled. "We wouldn't have approved back then, and we definitely don't approve now."

Draco saw him cast a hateful look at Ginny's sparkling wedding band that Draco had owled her earlier and smirked in satisfaction, completely oblivious to the growing tension around him. The meat-heads could get as angry as they wanted, but he was still marrying their sister no matter what.

"Well, regardless of what you think, we're still getting married," he declared aloud, looking at all the shocked and angry expressions. "And there's nothing you do or say that can dissuade us."

"But Ginny, why him?" one of the twins asked almost pleadingly. No doubt he was still miffed about that time during fifth year that Draco had made fun of his mother after the Quidditch game.

"Because we're a good fit," Ginny said exasperatedly, and Draco didn't blame her. It had to be the tenth time that someone had asked some variation or another of the same question.

"Yeah, it's not like anybody forced her to marry me," Draco threw in as a secret jab, and Ginny shot him a dirty look.

"Yeah, nobody's forcing me. Besides, for all you know, I could conveniently get divorced from him in exactly six months," Ginny retorted, "and then all this talk would've been for nothing."

Draco squeezed her arm tightly, reminding himself that he'd have to make sure to add something into their contract about keeping Weasley hushed up even after their contract ended. He didn't need anything messing up his and Astoria's soon-to-be budding relationship.

"If only you would," her meat loaf of a brother muttered, shooting threatening glances at Draco.

If only he knew.

.

**A/N: **Thanks so much to** andthenshesaid,** **theundignified, kayellis, noona1, CalyciaMalfoy, BJArthur, veronica21, chimis, frogstopper77, David Fishwick, yasy, srivera, GoodBadAndEverythinInBetween, Callidora-Malfoy, angelale8 **for your lovely reviews! *hands out donuts and cookies galore* You guys are so awesome.


	4. Chapter 4

Malfoy Manor was a beast.

Never before had Ginny seen such an enormous or formidable dwelling. So far, everything she'd seen had been overwhelming. Not only did they have four ballrooms and gardens that stretched further than the eye could see, but Ginny kept getting lost in the numerous floors and rooms. She'd only been here for about an hour and already, and she'd already taken wrong turns for far more times than she'd cared to count.

This entire situation was surreal and made Ginny sick, just like everything else. To her, Malfoy Manor was the very anti-thesis of the Burrow. While her childhood home had been messy and warm and altogether endearing, Malfoy's was cold and austere, filled to the very brim with peacocks and countless of priceless objects that seemed far too expensive to touch.

"Stop fidgeting, Weasley," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, never breaking his cool, even gaze on the crowd. "It's bloody annoying."

Ginny stilled her hand, which she hadn't even noticed traveling down her dress and smoothing it in place. "Stuff it, Malfoy," she huffed. "It's not too late to hex you and tell the guests to all go home, you know."

It was just typical of Malfoy to make her play hostess to his host and then proceed to critique her every move, which was something he'd been doing ever since she'd arrived.

Ginny purposely smoothed the front of dress again in exaggeration, just to irk him. She knew that he couldn't say anything about it because the dress itself had been picked out by a stony Narcissa, and if there was one thing Ginny knew about her fiancé, it was that his mother would always know best about pure-blood society in his eyes.

"Don't embarrass me tonight," Draco warned as they descended the stairs to greet their guests, Ginny's arm hooked snugly through his. Ginny slapped his hand in response, only stopping when they reached the bottom of the staircase.

Before her, Ginny could see the crowd staring expectantly at the two of them even as more people filed through the ballroom entrance. All of them, no doubt, were pure-bloods, and Ginny thought she could even recognize some of the ex-Death Eaters that had managed to avoid Azkaban through mysterious contributions from their Gringotts vaults, although she couldn't be sure.

"Let's get this over with," Ginny muttered before stepping forward to greet the first person.

*

Weasley hadn't managed to trip in her heels yet, something that had surprised Draco. On one hand, it would've been funny to watch. On the other, though, it would've reflected poorly on him, so it was just as well. He supposed that enough journaling and attendance at Ministry events and whatnot had trained her well. Even the green dress suited her well enough, even though Draco attributed it more to his mother's taste than Weasley's looks.

"Merlin, your Weasel clan is here," Draco muttered to the red head, who turned her head to the doorway. "I was hoping they'd all conveniently come down with Dragon Pox at the same time."

"Don't be sour, Malfoy," Ginny smirked, steering them towards the direction of her family.

They'd already had a massive disagreement over her family's presence. She'd pointed out that if all his friends and family were to be there for the public annunciation of their upcoming marriage, then so should hers. In turn, he'd argued that her family would be a source of embarrassment for both of them and therefore, would be better for everyone if they didn't show up.

She'd disagreed and in the ensuing struggle, in which she'd gone for her kitchen knives, had managed to force him to issue out invitations to her entire family, extended members and persnickety children included.

And while he had owled off the invitations with the deepest loathing, he'd at least taken some small comfort in that he'd already asked all his house elves to hide the valuables from the grubby hands of people like Ron Weasley and Potter, who would've no doubt used this event as a chance to steal a Malfoy family heirloom and pass it off as a dark object before the Ministry.

He sighed as Ginny chattered on incessantly next to him, surveying the room with disinterest so that he could see who they needed to greet next. He didn't want to have to actually talk to the Weasleys and look at Potter's glare.

Some things would just never change.

*

She was half-way through with her dessert-- a deliciously crusted crème brûlée made by the Malfoys' custom-imported French house-elf if she'd remembered correctly—when she was rudely interrupted by her fiancé.

"And now," Malfoy said, standing up and pinching Ginny's bare back discreetly to indicate that she should do the same, "I would like to thank all of you for coming to the annual Malfoy summer function."

The crowds gradually quieted when they all noticed that Malfoy was about to make a speech, and Ginny could see that even Hermione was shushing Rose by rocking the baby back and forth gently.

"This year, though, I have a very important announcement to make," Malfoy was saying, and he draped a hand over Ginny's waist accordingly. "These past few months, I've been seeing a very special woman, someone who I have realized I want to spend the rest of my life with. So recently, I have gone and asked for her hand in marriage, and she has, naturally, agreed with the greatest enthusiasm."

Here, Ginny could see the corners of his mouth turning up in a smirk for her benefit.

"So, it is with great pleasure when I tell you that I am getting married to Ginevra Weasley," Malfoy finished, and the audience applauded slowly, like they were still trying to process he'd said. Ginny looked over at her family's table and saw Ron pretending to gag on his silver, dessert spoon before Hermione slapped his hand away.

"Smile, Weasley, and look like you're thrilled to be marrying me," a voice gritted in her ear, and Ginny winced as she felt another pinch in the same place as before.

"It's difficult when I'm being pinched every five minutes," Ginny snapped, digging her nails into his side even as she fixed a smile on her face for the Daily Prophet's sake. Malfoy had been digging his fingers into her for every little thing. If she used the wrong spoon, she'd feel his pincer hands on her back. If she laughed too loudly, his hand would be there. Ginny wouldn't be surprised if she was bruised all over her back tomorrow morning.

"Yes, well, if you could actually act like you belong here, I wouldn't have to pinch you," Malfoy sneered back at her without even moving his mouth.

"I thought the whole point of this was to make your parents angry. I would think you'd want me to use the wrong spoon and such," Ginny pointed out, maintaining her smile. It was getting harder to argue with him while keeping her face neutral.

"It's embarrassing is what it is, when you don't even know the difference between a soup spoon and a dessert spoon," Malfoy informed her, and Ginny felt her face heating up in anger. "I knew you didn't have the proper type of upbringing like the rest of us, but I didn't know it was this bad."

"Make one more comment about my family, and I will show you where you can shove your soup and dessert spoons," Ginny hissed threateningly, giving him a loaded look.

He didn't say anything after that.

*

Draco had been taking dance lessons with his mother ever since he was five.

Now, seventeen years later, he could still hear her voice in the back of his head even as he waltzed around his family ballroom with one hand under Weasley's arm and the other one gripping hers tightly.

At least Weasley was passable in her dancing. He could still remember the awful pair Weasley and Longbottom had made so many years ago at the Hogwarts Yule Ball. Thank Merlin that time had changed all that.

When the song ended, Weasley abruptly told him that she absolutely refused to engage in another waltz, leaving him stranded on the dance floor. Draco gritted his teeth and followed her off the dance floor where she was sitting at the side, watching the movements of everybody else.

Together, they sat in an uncomfortable silence, not quite knowing what to say to the other that wouldn't compromise their lie.

"I'm going to get something to drink," Weasley finally said, standing up and heading for the food in a way that made her dress swish in tandem with her movements.

Draco folded his arms and stared ahead with a stony expression. Here he was, at his own damn family ball without a single female around him, sitting alone like an outsider. By all means, he should've been the one at everybody's center of attention. And if he hadn't had to baby-sit Weasley all night long to make sure she didn't do anything wrong to embarrass him, he probably would've been at the head of the crowd already.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you have a spare moment, would it be okay for us to conduct a brief interview?" a voice asked above him. Draco raised his face, ready to tell the person to piss off when he noticed that the voice belonged to Weasley's bubbly blonde coworker, who had a reluctant-looking Astoria lingering behind her.

He organized his facial expression so that it now had a more casual air to it. "As soon as my fiancée gets back, we can do it."

"Which, speaking of your fiancée," the blonde—Hannah Abbott, if he remembered correctly-- said, jumping right in, "how in the world did the two of you manage to fall for each other."

"Well, I guess you could say it was a sort of love at first sight kind of thing," Draco drawled, unable to resist answering. Even when he was little, he had always been one to milk every moment for attention, something he attributed to his only child syndrome.

"So, what was the exact moment that you realized she was 'the one'?" Hannah asked in that annoyingly bubbly voice, her quill scribbling itself furiously next to her.

Draco didn't answer for a moment as he watched Weasley talk with Potter to the side of the dance floor. If she danced with that bespectacled git while he was sitting ten feet away from her, he was going to make her married life miserable.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Hannah waved her annoying quill in front of his face.

"You can ask Wea-Ginny to tell you the story," he told her, tearing his eyes away. "You seem to be pretty good friends with her after all."

"Oh, yes," the blonde beamed brightly. "Ginny and I have a good work relationship."

Behind her, Astoria sneered in contempt. She obviously didn't have high regards for this coworker, either.

"Well, she's coming right now," Draco observed, noting with satisfaction the way that Potter slunk off to the side dejectedly, his stupid mop of hair sticking up in all directions.

"Hi Hannah," Ginny gave a friendly smile to her coworker while managing to pretend as if Astoria weren't there at all.

Draco pulled Weasley into his lap, wounding his arms around her middle so tightly to the point where it would've caused her discomfort. He popped his chin onto Weasley's bare shoulder and smirked challengingly at Astoria.

"Ginny," he said, never taking his eyes off of his former friend, "the Daily Prophet would like to ask us some questions. Why don't you tell your friend here the story of how we met."

"The story of how we met?" Ginny blinked, looking confused for a second.

"Yes, the time we met at the local coffee shop?" Draco turned to grit in her ear and was met with a shocking surprise.

Weasley smelled i nice /i and not at all like farm animals.

It was a subtle mixture of apples and vanilla, and it was making him hungry. In fact, he kind of wanted to run his teeth along her neck and sink his teeth into the tender white flesh. The urge was so overwhelming that he completely missed whatever story Weasley told Hannah Abbott. It must've worked, though, because they'd already moved on by the time that Draco had gotten a grip on himself.

"So, have the two of you set a date for the wedding?" Hannah Abbott was saying.

"No," Ginny said, crinkling her eyebrows at the thought in a way that set deep creases into her forehead.

Draco tightened his grip on her painfully in reprimand. "Actually, yes, we have. It'll be next Saturday."

"You're planning an entire wedding in a week?" Hannah Abbott said in disbelief, pausing her Quick-quotes quill.

"Yes, Draco," Ginny laughed nervously for Hannah's sake, "we're planning our entire wedding in a week?"

He shrugged. "Why not? The sooner, the better."

In exactly six months and a week, he'd get to divorce Weasley and settle down with Astoria. Which, speaking of Astoria, she was looking rather ill at the moment.

Perhaps she was finally realizing her immense stupidity, Draco thought rather happily to himself. After all, there were no better fish in the sea than himself. Fortunately for her, he'd be kind. With proper groveling and rewards for his painstaking efforts, he would graciously forgive Astoria.

"Draco," Astoria suddenly spoke up for the first time since she'd arrived, "can I talk to you for a moment?"

He gave her a rather haughty look while his insides smirked smugly to themselves. "Oh?"

"In private," Astoria said through gritted teeth, and Draco saw Ginny fiving her suspicious glance.

He eased Ginny off of him and took his friend by her hand, leading her onto the dance floor.

"Wait, Astoria, you're supposed to take their pictures," Hannah cried from behind them, but Astoria ignored her.

"So what exactly is this all about?" Astoria hissed when they were far enough, in a voice just so that he could hear her over the din of the crowd.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he told her, even though he had a good feeling what was angering her.

"Marrying i her /i just to spite me," Astoria said, looking like there was a bitter taste in her mouth at the thought.

"Quite full of yourself, aren't you?" he said coolly. "You should know that Ginny has many good qualities."

Astoria snorted indelicately. "Like what? I've worked with her before, and she has no good qualities."

Draco racked his mind for something to say, but nothing really came to mind.

"She smells edible," he informed his friend, unable to think of anything else.

"You're marrying her because she smells edible?" Astoria said disbelievingly. "I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want ," Draco raised an eyebrow. "Besides, what is it with you, anyway? Got a broomstick up your arse today, or something?"

She gave him a scathing look. "No, I just don't like that you're marrying her, of all people."

"Well, I am," he said. It was true. Even if he got cold feet the day before, the contract would physically make it painful for him not to marry Weasley.

There was an awkward pause after that that made the room feel stuffier. When the song finally ended, he stepped back and released Astoria's hand. "She has a better arse."

"What?" Astoria snapped irritably. "I didn't catch that. Come again?"

"One of her good qualities," Draco said, unable to avoid hitting it where it hurt one last time, "is that she has a better arse than you."

He didn't stay long enough to hear her subsequent tirade at his last words.

**A/N: **Hm, a bit of vampire Draco there where he wants to bite Ginny. Anyways...thank you so much to **David Fishwick, frogstopper77, BJArthur, anthenshesaid, noona1, veronica21, kayellis, Nutmeg44, yasy, theundignified, angelale8, delete-the-girl, starlit skyes, Peril of Hope, intrepidx, Rashel Quinn **for all your amazing reviews! I've read all of them, but haven't responded to them yet. I'll get right on that ASAP. Just know that I deeply appreciate getting all your feedback, and that I will always reply to them, even though it might take me a while because of Real Life. Thanks again, and please read and review!

XOXO, JT


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